


rouge my knees and roll my stockings down

by alykapedia



Series: an ever-fixed mark [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Regency, Day 2: Clothes, Day 3: Roleplay, Knotting, M/M, NSFW Victuuri Week 2017, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 13:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11487138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alykapedia/pseuds/alykapedia
Summary: “It’s just that only whores wear the knot in front,” Yuuri says, stepping in close to breathe in Viktor’s intoxicating scent before peering up at him through lowered lashes and affecting an accent he’s heard during one of his and Phichit’s ill-advised jaunts to Covent Garden. “Did you want me to be your whore, milord?”(Or: A morning well-spent with Lord Nikiforov and his expensive whore.)





	rouge my knees and roll my stockings down

**Author's Note:**

> Completely inspired by the official yukata art and of course, I just had to make it into the Regency AU bc reasons. For my regency au readers, this happens a year after the events of "if this be error" so now you know the ending we're all hurtling towards (after so much drama). This was originally just for day 2: clothes, but uh, a little role play kinda happened so, two birds one stone, etc
> 
> Warnings for hermaphrodite omega biology, so uh, proceed with caution if it squicks you out. ALSO. I am aware that obi placement has multiple meanings, but it makes for an interesting premise so uh, suspend your disbelief.

“What do you want to do with it?”

If Yakov was here and not recovering from a sprained ankle, there is no doubt in Viktor’s mind that he would tell them to sell it. Profit is profit, and it’s not as if they could easily make the trip back just to return an extra bolt of silk. But the fact that Zhora would even ask, when they both know what the answer should be, prickles at Viktor’s attention and he finds himself paying a closer look to the fine weave of the fabric.

It’s a gorgeous deep red color, and it would certainly make for a lovely dress for some young debutante or—

Oh. _Oh_.

Viktor’s already imagining pale skin wrapped in all that beautiful silk and feels his mouth water, his heart a loud and thudding thing inside his chest. They’ve already made a profit for this month’s shipment, so surely an extra bolt of silk won’t be terribly missed.

“Do you mind if I keep it?” He asks, voice gravelly, and he doesn’t have to look to see that Zhora is smiling knowingly.

“I know a talented seamstress. She can make something exquisite befitting your Yuuri.”

.

A month later, Zhora’s seamstress comes through, and the dress—no—the kimono arrives at their country estate in a sturdy box stamped with the shop’s name. Inside, the garment is covered still in thin linen to protect it from the elements, and Viktor now watches in rapt attention as Yuuri parts the cloth to reveal the treasure within.

“Oh, Vitya,” Yuuri says, fingers carefully freeing the kimono from its confines and running reverent fingers all over the gold embroidery that the seamstress had insisted upon when she’d seen the bolt of silk and the pattern Viktor had brought. “You shouldn’t have,” Yuuri continues, turning worried eyes at Viktor. “This must have cost quite a fortune.”

Viktor would empty his coffers for Yuuri in a heartbeat, but Viktor has a feeling that Yuuri would not appreciate the sentiment so he merely shakes his head. “We had an extra bolt of silk in last month’s shipment,” he explains, standing up from his perch on the chaise lounge to join Yuuri on their bed. “You needn’t worry about expenses, my darling.”

“And I suppose that bolt of silk was magically transformed into a kimono? With my exact measurements?” Yuuri asks with a quirk of his lips, one eyebrow rising on his forehead. “You pamper me so, my love,” he murmurs, as if being spoiled by his lord husband is such a terrible thing, before leaning back against Viktor with a soft sigh.

Viktor huffs out a small laugh, pressing a kiss against Yuuri’s temple. “What kind of husband would I be if I did not shower you with gifts from time to time?” He asks, punctuating his words with a fleeting kiss on Yuuri’s cheek. “And who else would I spoil?” Viktor continues as he pulls Yuuri ever closer, sliding his hands over the slippery material of Yuuri’s sleeping gown to toy with the tie in front. “Yura is enough of a brat already.”

At the mention of their belligerent ward, Yuuri lets out a giggle, shifting so that he can look at Viktor. “Yura’s been quite agreeable lately and hasn’t skipped any of his lessons,” Yuuri says, humming in delight when Viktor mouths at his mating gland, lips soft against the throb of his bond mark.

“He’s only being agreeable because you refused to teach him that fencing trick of yours if he kept on skipping his lessons,” Viktor opines, hands turning bolder in their ministrations, finally untying Yuuri’s sleeping gown and slipping inside.

“ _Viktor_ ,” Yuuri warns even as he spreads his legs, body turning pliant embarrassingly quickly. Viktor’s touch always has him weak, desire welling up inside him until he’s overflowing with it and the core of him is a throbbing and dripping wreck. Yuuri can already smell himself, scent turning syrupy and cloying as Viktor’s hands squeeze at his thighs.

However, instead of slipping his hands underneath Yuuri’s smallclothes, Viktor reaches for the kimono draped over Yuuri’s knees. “Will you try it on for me, please?” He asks before pulling Yuuri’s sleeping gown off his shoulders, leaving him practically bare and Viktor hungrily drinks him in, groaning at the familiar scent of Yuuri’s desire suffusing the air.

Gathering the spill of fabric into his arms, Yuuri gets to his feet, throwing his husband an unimpressed look. “Is this why you insisted that I not get dressed for the day just yet?” He shrugs the kimono on anyway, mentally wincing at how Minako would scold him for not wearing the proper undergarments for it.

“If it pleases my darling husband to think so, then who am I to stop him? Perhaps I simply prefer seeing you without clothes on.”

Yuuri can’t help the snort he lets out at Viktor’s words, cheeks coloring even further because he knows very well that his husband would want nothing more than to have him be in dishabille forevermore.

“Do you need help with the obi, my dear?” Viktor asks once Yuuri has pulled the kimono close to himself, and he stands as he plucks the wide swathe of black brocade from the box. The embroidery on the obi is beautiful, swirls of gold thread shining through, and Viktor feels no remorse for spending so much for it—his Yuuri deserves only the best and Viktor lives to provide.

“Yes, please,” Yuuri says, smiling widely when Viktor walks the scant distance between them to help him dress. He’s about to tease Viktor about this being such a far cry from what he normally does, seeing as his husband seems to have an ongoing vendetta against him wearing clothes, but the words die a quick death on his tongue when he notices Viktor’s precise and skillful handling of the obi. “You’ve had practice,” Yuuri observes, standing still with his arms raised away from himself.

“Your sister made me do it a thousand times when she found out I was having a kimono made for you.”

Except it seems that Mari must have forgotten to instruct Viktor in the proper placement of the knot. Viktor’s created an almost perfect bunko musubi, the black brocade twisted into a beautiful butterfly shape and Yuuri is already considering making Viktor tie the obi to his kimonos each and every time, but there’s just one tiny problem.

“Is something the matter?” Viktor asks, catching sight of the conflicted expression on Yuuri’s face. “Did I make a mistake?” He surveys the bunko musubi he’d tied and while it’s still a bit looser than how Mari demonstrated to him all those weeks ago, Viktor is rather confident that he did it correctly.

“No, no,” Yuuri babbles, winding his arms around Viktor’s neck as an idea forms in his mind. An idea that would easily erase the stricken look on Viktor’s face and get rid of the growing heat in his loins.

He just hopes his acting would pass muster.

“It’s just that only whores wear the knot in front,” Yuuri says, stepping in close to breathe in Viktor’s intoxicating scent before peering up at him through lowered lashes and affecting an accent he’s heard during one of his and Phichit’s ill-advised jaunts to Covent Garden. “Did you want me to be your whore, milord?”

Breath leaving his lips in a groan, Viktor feels all the blood in his body rush down to his cock and before he knows it, he’s hauling Yuuri up by the hips and pinning him against the wall, rutting against him mindlessly. He hears Yuuri mewl over the rush of blood in his ears, long legs scrabbling behind Viktor’s back to pull him closer as Yuuri licks into his mouth, wet and obscene, tasting like the filthiest of promises.

“You must be quite expensive,” Viktor gasps, pupils blown wide, the blue of his eyes nothing more than a thin ring. He’s practically bursting through his trousers and he’s aching to bury himself inside Yuuri and stay there for the rest of his days, but Yuuri wants to play, is already smiling coquettishly at him and looking far more tempting than any prostitute Viktor’s encountered in his travels. “Pretty thing like you must cost a fortune.”

And then Yuuri makes a filthy noise that goes straight to Viktor’s cock, hands leaving Viktor’s shoulders to tug at the obi, undoing the knot expertly so that the folds of his kimono fall open easily with a rustle of fabric.

“I’ve been told that I’m worth every pound,” Yuuri purrs, arching his back as he lifts the hem of his smallclothes and Viktor bites out a curse at the sight of him--cock hard and already glistening with slick while the folds of his sex are a lurid rose color, still puffy from last night’s abuse and _oh_ , how Viktor wants to put his mouth there and sup on Yuuri’s dripping cunt.

With their current position, Viktor settles instead for sinking a thumb inside Yuuri, moaning at the heat and the way Yuuri’s walls suck him in greedily. “Ah, but you’re already so well-used,” he muses, spreading the slick folds of Yuuri’s sex with his thumb and forefinger. “I hardly think you’re even worth a single penny.”

Yuuri’s lips twist into a frown, momentarily feigning offense before finding it beneath him. He trails a hand down his chest, tweaking a nipple on the way and doesn’t miss the way Viktor’s breath hitches, before he joins Viktor’s hand in spreading himself, fingers parting the folds of his already clenching cunt and exposing the most intimate parts of him to Viktor’s hungry gaze.

“Why don’t I show you just how good I am?”

He’s already reaching for the ties of Viktor’s trousers as he says it, wrestling them down the man’s hips just enough to free Viktor’s cock. It’s hard and already leaking, the base swollen with the beginnings of a knot and Yuuri wastes no time before he’s guiding it inside him, rocking down until he’s moaning brokenly at the sheer girth and size of it, stretching and filling him up so, so well.

“Go on,” Yuuri says, grazing his teeth teasingly over the throbbing bond mark on Viktor’s neck. “ _Fuck me, milord_.”

The sound of Yuuri, who’s always so proprietary and unfailingly polite, cursing and affecting a lilt that rightly belongs in a brothel, spurs Viktor into action.

He hefts Yuuri higher on the wall before driving into him with wild abandon, Yuuri’s breathy cries and the wet squelch of where they’re connected so intimately stoking the inferno raging inside his chest. The change in the angle allows him to drive deeper into Yuuri, hitting the spot inside him that has Yuuri screaming and raking furrows into Viktor’s back that the fine linen of his dress shirt barely protects him from.

Trembling from sensation, Yuuri pulls Viktor in with a harsh tug at pale hair, crashing their lips together; the frantic dance of their tongues echoing the frenzy of their lovemaking. He’s close, a familiar heat churning low in his stomach, and Yuuri clenches rhythmically, muffling his cries into the underside of Viktor’s jaw as his body seizes up.

“ _Blyad_ ,” Viktor bites out when he feels a splash of wetness hitting his belly, each slide going smoother as he fucks Yuuri through his climax, chasing after his own.

“Come for me,” Yuuri keens, twining boneless limbs around Viktor. “Go on. Fill up your whore.” Yuuri taunts, rolling his hips down and shivering when each thrust teases at the fullness of Viktor’s knot against his entrance. He wants it so bad, and while it doesn’t quite fit with the persona he’s taken on, Yuuri says in a rough gasp, “ _knot me, Vitya_ ,” before sinking his teeth into Viktor’s mating gland, renewing his bond mark with a loud moan that Viktor echoes.

It barely takes him three more thrusts before his climax slams into him, making his knees buckle with the force of it, his swollen knot finally popping inside Yuuri’s cunt.

Viktor’s not entirely certain as to how he manages to get them back to their bed, but he does, and he collapses in a tired heap, Yuuri blanketing him with a small, satisfied purr as Viktor releases inside him, filling him up just like Yuuri asked him to. He’s all but ready to close his eyes and spend the rest of the morning asleep when Yuuri shifts, sitting up astride him carefully.

Mouth too clumsy for words, Viktor merely grunts, hands coming up to support Yuuri’s waist, keeping their hips flushed together. It wouldn’t do for Yuuri to slip off while they’re still so intimately joined.

“Was that worth your coin, milord?” Yuuri asks, brown eyes glittering with mischief and Viktor huffs out a laugh, grabbing Yuuri’s right hand and pulling it close so that he can kiss the gold ring adorning his beautiful, beautiful husband’s finger.  

“You’re worth every coin in my coffers, darling.”

**Author's Note:**

> /rolls further into the gutter/
> 
> title is from chicago's 'all that jazz'


End file.
